


Under Covers

by Moriavis



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Leonard Snart is a Softie, M/M, Sickfic, but he's also a grumpy sick person, post!Oculus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-22 00:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17652758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriavis/pseuds/Moriavis
Summary: Leonard's toughed out colds by himself before; he wasn't the coddling type. It figured Barry didn't get the memo.





	Under Covers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nateheywood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nateheywood/gifts).



> This story was written for the prompt: Sick!Len. Barry coddles him like there's no tomorrow. Hopefully I got enough coddling in! I had fun writing it!
> 
> Thanks to saekhwa for the beta. She, as always, makes everything I write a thousand times more coherent.

~*~

Leonard snuffled for breath and only became aware of the fact that he couldn't breathe when he had to suck air in through his mouth instead. His head pounded in time with his heartbeat, his skin tight and uncomfortable. He forced himself upright, scrubbed his hand over his face, and squeezed the bridge of his nose, trying to get the congestion to loosen its grip.

Ignoring the muffled discomfort of his aching head, he trudged out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen, where the familiar sight of yellow lightning sparked and crackled as Barry moved from place to place. Leonard went immediately for the fridge to grab the orange juice, and by the time he'd turned back to the table, there was an empty glass waiting for him.

"I can't believe you slept in," Barry said, so full of energy that Leonard hated the Speed Force on principle. "I made pancakes?"

Leonard grunted in acknowledgement and took a sip of his juice—his throat was parched and sore, and he scowled, setting the glass down on the table again. "Don't think I'm up for pancakes," he rasped. "They're all yours."

"Len." Barry flitted in front of him like a hummingbird, concern creasing his forehead. "Are you okay?"

Leonard put his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm, closing his eyes as he leaned forward, longing for the sleep that was just beyond his grasp. Barry pressed his fingers to Leonard's unoccupied cheek, and it was nicer than he thought it would be. Barry's hand was cool, and Leonard leaned toward him instead, lazily reaching up to curl his fingers around Barry's wrist to keep him in place.

"You're burning up." Barry brushed Leonard's forehead with the back of his other hand. "I told you going out in the rain to do your gun trick was going to get you sick."

"Worth it." Leonard squeezed Barry's wrist, and for the briefest of moments, his skin buzzed with the static of Barry's body, ozone hanging in the air as Barry prodded him upright.

"Come on. I got you some Advil."

Leonard opened his eyes to verify what Barry had actually handed him and then nodded in agreement, taking the pills with another swallow of orange juice that made him grimace. "Don't smother me," he complained, and Barry grinned, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I won't call into work. But you're going to take more medicine and go right back to bed."

Leonard shook his head. "I've got—"

"You're sick," Barry pointed out, as if Leonard hadn't actually noticed. "You're running a fever—what if you have the flu? You want to go out and do super-villain stuff and get Lisa and Mick sick, too?"

Leonard glared at Barry. "You've made your point."

Barry softened and brushed his fingers over Leonard's forehead again. "Get some sleep. I'll drop by on my lunch break and bring you chicken soup." 

He curled his arm around Leonard's shoulders but backed off when Leonard shrugged free, raising his hands. He hovered by Leonard's side as Leonard lurched to his feet and walked with him all the way back into the bedroom. Once Leonard sat safely on the edge of the bed, Barry flashed to the bathroom and then darted to the linen closet to drape three more blankets over the bed before Leonard had even known he was gone.

"You don't have any cold medicine here? It's like you want to be sick. You know you're not Superman, right?" Barry fussed with the blankets, rearranging the way they draped over the end of the bed. "I'll google kosher cold medicine and bring you some later."

"Barry." Leonard only had to say Barry's name in order to earn a flustered blush, and his chest clenched in a way that was possibly tenderness but most likely congestion.

Barry arched his eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks still a flushed pink that Leonard found charming, even when he was so miserable. "If you're going to start giving me orders, let me remind you that you're the one who's weaving back and forth even though he's sitting down."

Leonard was quite sure he had a snarky response waiting on the tip of his tongue, but then he caught sight of the pillows and mostly just slumped to the side, heavy and lax enough that gravity did most of the work.  
In the next second, he was tucked in under the blankets, and he had to spend a minute locating his arms and legs. "I wish you'd stop doing that," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "It screws with me."

"You don't need proprioception when you're sick," Barry said, stroking Leonard's forehead again. "I'll check on you when I have a chance, okay?"

Leonard mumbled something he thought might have been affirmative, but he made the mistake of closing his eyes and slid into sleep between one labored breath and the next.

~*~

Leonard awoke from a strange fever dream involving aliens and a game show and curled up into an unhappy ball beneath the covers. His head was aching again, and he frowned when he heard footsteps, reaching under his pillow for the gun that he hadn't kept hidden there since Barry first started staying over.

"Good news." The sound of Barry's voice made Leonard relax, and he made a mighty effort to open his eyes. He failed, but he didn't mind that much. "Turns out Nyquil's okay, so I got you the cherry kind. No one likes the licorice kind. That's gross."

Leonard blinked in confusion as he struggled to sit up. "Thought you went to work."

"I did." Barry smiled in the fond, soft way that was growing alarmingly familiar, and carried a tray into the room that had a bottle of Nyquil and a bowl of some sort of soup on it.

Leonard scowled, restless annoyance rising in him like a tide, and he squinted as if he could see past his curtains before he gave up and rubbed his hand over his face. "It ain't that late."

"How would you know?" Barry set the tray over Leonard's lap and pressed his wrist to Leonard's forehead. "You've gotten cooler than me, that's a good sign. Guess it's time to break out the thermometer."

"I've lived forty-seven years without a thermometer. I don't need one now," Leonard protested, and Barry snorted.

"You were dead for three of those years, so they don't count. Drink your medicine and eat your soup without complaining. For once. _Please_."

Leonard glared at Barry, and Barry just rolled his eyes and made his way out of the bedroom. Leonard tossed the Nyquil back like a shot of alcohol, his mouth twisting up in distaste, and then looked at the bowl of soup with equal parts distaste and curiosity. Barry could barely cook, so he'd probably purchased it from somewhere.

It was still good.

He managed half the bowl of soup and had started nodding off again when Barry came for the tray. "I'm gonna stay here tonight," he said softly. "No arguments. I'll feel better if you're not alone."

"Fine." Leonard planted his head solidly on his pillow and yanked his blankets up. "Take advantage of me and my hospitality when I'm too weak to say no."

"You're so full of crap."

He grunted in response, and minutes—or hours—later, the room was dark around him, and Barry was snuggled against his back, his hand curled over Leonard's hip. He was parched again, pleasure lighting in his chest when he realized there was a glass of water waiting for him on the nightstand. He was sweaty from the combination of Barry's body heat and the blankets, so he kicked the blankets off. It wasn't entirely a surprise when Barry wound his arms around Leonard again and pulled him back against the curl of his body, and he drifted back to sleep with Barry's face pressed into the curve of his neck.

~*~

"No," Leonard said firmly. "I'm not going to do it. I don't need to. I'm fine."

Barry looked supremely unimpressed, and waved the little blue thermometer back and forth in front of Leonard's face. "I bought this just for you. If your temperature is back to normal, I promise I'll let you out of bed."

Leonard glared at Barry, who glared back, and he took the thermometer as unhappily as possible, sticking the end beneath his tongue. They glared at each other in silence until it beeped, and Barry took it, staring at the number. "Okay. It looks like you're back to normal."

"I could have told you that." 

Barry glared at him again, and Leonard shrugged, only to frown again when Barry's shoulders slumped. "You're so self-sufficient. I just wanted to help take care of you, for once."

Leonard averted his eyes, a strange sort of guilt sinking in his gut. "You know… I've never had anyone stay with me before. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Barry's green eyes glimmered. "I'm not doing it again, though. You're a jerk when you're sick."

Leonard laughed at that, shaking his head agreement. "I don't blame you. I've been told I'm a terrible patient."

"So bad," Barry agreed, bright and earnest. "The absolute _worst_." He sat down next to Leonard on the bed and bumped their shoulders. "What do you say we try for pancake breakfast take two?"

Leonard smirked, his heart thrumming with tenderness and a soft sort of gratitude. "It sounds perfect." He waited a minute, then another, and bumped shoulders with Barry again. "This time, I'll actually eat one."

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> The gun trick that got Len sick: He went out in the rain and aimed the gun upward to turn the raindrops into hailstones. Why did he do this? Who knows?! The important thing was that it worked!


End file.
